Page 28 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Blitha were sold first of all, milady,” Lancer admitted. “She were too spirited for a worm like Master Alfred to ride.”

Penny coughed loudly, letting her husband know he was overstepping a mark by criticizing his old master to his new one. Lancer’s face turned instantly blank, but really, Sabina was hardly likely to object to such talk. Alfred Hendry was a craven worm as far as she was concerned.

It was then she noticed that, though he stood with his back to them, one arm braced against the mantel, Sir Jeffree’s back was rigid with affront. Very likely he stood more on ceremony than she when it came to such matters and was not so free with servants.

“Let us see the rest,” she sighed and led the way through to the kitchen, larder, and pantry which she was delighted to see looked a lot cleaner and better maintained than the Great Hall.

“This is my domain,” Penny said eagerly. “And you can see, milady, that I am not slovenly by nature. I weren’t given no free hand to interfere with the master’s quarters, you see, but back here, all is as it should be.”

“I can see that,” Sabina agreed soothingly. “You have kept things in good order.” She noticed, though, that the pantry was ill-stocked, and while there were many herbs collected from the gardens and hung about to dry, there were few sacks of grain or flour and not a wheel of cheese or pat of butter in sight.

In the larder, there were some birds and dead hares strung up, but it was far from the abundance of meat that Miles delighted in piling up after his hunting trips.

“Are there no barrels of salted meats or fish?” Sabina asked, looking about.

“No milady,” Penny admitted regretfully. “We’ve used up all that was stored these past months. Master Alfred always waved such matters away. Oftentimes he took his meals at The Blue Boar,” she said naming the inn in town.

“I see,” Sabina’s eyebrows rose. No wonder Alfred had inspired no loyalty among his servants, not with their stores dwindling away and he wholly uncaring. When they descended to the cellar, which had functioned as a buttery in Sabina’s day, they found only three dusty casks of ale remaining and no wine at all. Remembering the virtually impassable lane, Sabina guessed these must have been delivered some time ago.

“The cellar used to be stocked floor-to-ceiling full of wine back in Master Miles’s day,” Lancer commented, shaking his head. “But it’s been long since drunk dry.”

Sabina made no comment, simply marched back to the steps, and led their party up the staircase to the living quarters. The state of things there made her blanch, and she could not look in Jeffree’s direction. Alfred Hendry had been living in absolute squalor.

“Throw open the windows,” she commanded, covering her nose with her sleeve. “The air in here is foul and unwholesome!” Lancer and Penny ran to the casements and opened the few windows that allowed it. “This mattress and bedsheets will have to be burned!” she choked, turning away from the filthy pit that Hendry had slept in.

“The room will have to be stripped bare and a bonfire lit,” Jeffree put in cuttingly.

She did not have the heart to argue with him. Besides, the only furniture that remained was an overturned footstool. The remains of a small table were lying in the fireplace. Sabina pursed her lips with disapproval and strode about the other bedrooms which were not quite as bad as the main bedchamber, though their furniture had likewise been looted. They stood practically bare, stripped even of bedframes, though one did have a mattress and showed signs of recent occupation. She supposed even a social pariah like Alfred must have some cronies.

One of the windows seemed to be broken and was covered in a blanket. There was a nest of mice in the smallest of the bedchambers which sent Sabina hurrying backward so fast, she stepped right into Jeffree who caught her upper arms and set her from him carefully.

“I think we have seen enough for this day, have we not?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Much needs to be done before possession can be taken of this place.”

“Well, I agree it would serve no purpose to disturb the servants by prying into their attic quarters at this point,” she answered.

“We should set forth; ‘tis almost midday,” he said, his gaze flickering to the window. “Doubtless, my mother and Sir Dudley will be setting off shortly.”

Sabina gazed back at him blankly. “You surely do not expect me to abandon Morecotte now,” she answered with spirit. “Lest Alfred Hendry should return and try to take possession again. ‘Twould be better if you left me here to supervise and guard against him.”

Jeffree’s gaze narrowed. “Indeed, I will not,” he answered roundly. “We can send my man Osborn over from Ganford Chase and a couple of my uncle’s servants to help out if needs be. Your place now is by my side, taking leave of my family.”

Sabina bridled, opened her mouth to argue, then relented. After all, he had obliged her by restoring Morecotte to her. “Oh, very well,” she murmured. “Though I cannot see that any of them will appreciate my presence. Indeed,” she added, “they are far more likely to resent it!”

9

Sabina stayed close to his side and spoke little as they moved about the Great Hall, bidding farewell to his relatives. If anyone addressed her directly, she replied with civility, otherwise, she held her tongue. As it was, only his cousin Frederick and an aunt who was very deaf, attempted any exchange of words with her. Jeffree suspected the aunt’s deafness meant she had not fully grasped the events that had led to their marriage three days before.

Jeffree did not pay much heed to his Aunt Justina’s offer for them to come and visit with her next spring, but he scowled at Frederick, who he thought overstepped the mark by peering into Sabina’s face with undue curiosity. He noticed how his cousin kept glancing over to him with puzzlement before returning his gaze to his wife.

It was that alone which had prompted Jeffree to take a firm hold of Sabina’s arm and draw her in close. She had looked startled by the move but made no comment to finding herself suddenly clamped to his side.

“Where are your parents?” Sabina asked, looking about once Frederick had faded away.

“Vyse is not my father,” Jeffree found himself retorting. “He is my mother’s second husband.”

“Oh.” She shrugged, looking wholly unconcerned about her slip.

“They have two boys,” he added, “who take a good deal of organizing. Doubtless, that is why they are late down.”